


Alternative Ending to Requiem

by a_steady_wish



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Pregnancy, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 22:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10863462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_steady_wish/pseuds/a_steady_wish
Summary: Just trying to give Scully and Mulder (and their baby) a little happiness.





	1. Things You Said in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 3 parts for 3 different prompts: "Things You Said in the Dark", "Things You Said After You Kissed Me", and "Things You Said in Your Vows". I wouldn't normally have tried to write a Mulder and Scully wedding ceremony, but since it was a prompt I gave it a try, and I hope I did them justice.

It’s only four o’clock in the morning when you stir, roll over, blink your eyes a couple of times. Mulder is asleep beside you, softly snoring at the back of his throat; you can barely see him but you know he is lying with one arm across his chest and the other thrown over his forehead, his legs splayed out, his head slightly to the side. It’s the way he sleeps most of the time.

Most nights, you sleep on your side, facing in either direction, but tonight you have been tossing and turning, waiting until it was time for your first morning pee. You’re amazed you haven’t been keeping Mulder up with all the movements. Usually when you’re restless, he wakes, reaches for you, soothes you with his hands and his lips, makes your body thrum with pleasure and fills your brain with endorphins so you can sleep at last. Last night, however, you both arrived home late, having spent a chaotic two days in Oregon chasing a spacecraft of some kind, a ship that was taking and returning former abductees; a case near and dear to your hearts. You arrived home completely spent and exhausted, showered together without even making love, and collapsed into bed. And Mulder slept soundly.

You couldn’t, though, not really. Not after the conversation you had overheard in the coffee shop at the airport. Two women, sharing stories, laughing about how they knew they were pregnant for the first time. You stood in silence, sickened by the smell of coffee, your nipples tender in your cotton bra, and tried not to get carried away as they listed all of your current physical complaints as their early pregnancy symptoms.

No, you told yourself, I’m just tired, we’ve been on the go so much, and my system is out of whack. I just need a few days – or weeks – at home to recharge, eat well, sleep better. That’s all.

Still, you found yourself telling Mulder you needed a new toothbrush before you swung into the airport pharmacy while he loaded your luggage on a cart, and you bought a home pregnancy test, stuffing it way down to the bottom of your purse.

Now, it’s 4:08 in the morning and you’re looking at Mulder, his beautiful profile, his dark hair askew. You’re thinking about how it’s so, so unlikely to be a pregnancy – not after everything your body has gone through, been exposed to – but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to take the test. Just don’t get your hopes up, old girl, you tell yourself.

The bathroom floor is cold on your bare feet; your eyes squint and blink hurriedly at the assault of the light being switched on. You sit, you pee on a narrow white stick, and you wait.

It’s only three minutes later but seems like an hour when the lines appear, clear as day, and you exhale loudly. You close your eyes for long moments, open them again: it hasn’t changed. You begin to pad back out to the bed, suddenly think you were mistaken, and go back to the bathroom to check again. You were not mistaken: two pink lines. You check the box a fourth time. Making sure you have read the results properly: You have. You are. You are pregnant.

After being in the lit bathroom, the bedroom now seems very, very dark, and you slide your feet across the hardwood floor to find the bed again. Mulder is stirring now, realizing that you’re not beside him. You slip back under the duvet, wrapping your arm over his warm, bare abdomen.

“Sorry if I woke you,” you whisper, more emotion in your voice than intended.

His eyes flutter. “You okay?” he asks.

“Mulder,” you begin, and choke on the words.

He turns over, lays a warm, strong arm across you, and looks you in the eye. He’s awake now, and paying attention; as your eyes adjust to the darkness you can make out the concerned furrow of his brow, his dark pupils trying to read you.

“Mulder,” you try again. “I have something to tell you, something that seems unbelievable… I’m having a hard time believing it, myself… something… miraculous, in fact.” A tear spills down one cheek.

He holds you while you tell him, nuzzling your nose with his own, eyes sparkling with surprise, amazement and delight in the dark, safe cocoon you are creating together.


	2. Things You Said After You Kissed Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter One for summary.

Once you tell him about the pregnancy, with your voice shaking and tears on your face, you hold each other a long while. Mulder is quiet, but full of joy, and of wonder; he runs his hands over your shoulders and arms, wipes away your tears, kisses your cheeks and eyes, promises you that he will be there every step of the way. He can’t believe he’s going to be a father. It’s a dream come true, he tells you, and his voice shakes a little too.

At some point his hands on your back drift lower, gently bracketing your thighs, and you feel yourself opening for him like a springtime flower. You pull yourself onto his warm body, kissing his neck, his scratchy jawline, his mouth; he touches you tenderly, with whispers of his skin against your own.

You ride him leisurely as the rising dawn shifts the shades in the room from black and grey to soft creams and yellows and blues, the muffled sounds of the street outside filling with people, with cars; you shudder and gasp his name as you peak, clearing the mountaintop and then easing down the other side. Mulder’s hands are feather-light on your hips – “You won’t break me,” you tell him, but he only smiles at you, shaking his head in awe – and he finds his release right after you, moving as lithely and gracefully as a dancer under your body.

You sleep then, finally, and he falls back to sleep too.

The next time you awake it is after 11, and Mulder is lying low on the bed, his head on your belly. You tousle his hair, draw a heart on the top of his head with your fingernail.

“Marry me, Scully,” he says plainly, his unused morning voice deep and gruff.

“Oh, Mulder,” is your accidental reply, because he has never mentioned marriage to you before and you don’t realize that he is completely serious.

His eyes are meadow-green when they reach yours; he slides back up to your face, cups your cheek with his hand. “Please,” he implores, and you realize that he knows exactly what he’s asking, and that every cell of his body means it.

You lean in to kiss him; his mouth is soft and honey-sweet, despite that neither of you have brushed your teeth yet. He runs his long fingers into your hair, and you shift closer to him so you can tickle his legs with your toes under the covers.

When you pull away, he is still asking you the same question with his eyes, with the stroke of his fingers against your hair, behind your ear. You feel it with each touch, with each breath he takes. You were not expecting this, and you are a person who likes to be prepared. There is a moment of uncertainty as you take this in. “Scully,” he whispers, waiting for you to be sure.

Real life, you recognize suddenly – and you’re surprised that it fills you with such joy – is meant to be lived free of the burden of expectations, unhindered by preparation and planning for every possible outcome. If you had done everything in your life according to plan, you wouldn’t have joined the FBI; you wouldn’t have seen the things you’ve seen, and gone to the ends of the earth and back; you wouldn’t be carrying a baby in your womb right now; you most definitely wouldn’t have fallen in love with the most incredible person you have ever met. You’re going to rid yourself of your own limitations, you decide, and take a breath.

“Yes,” you tell him, and his smile is the realest thing you have ever seen.


	3. Things You Said in Your Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter One for summary.

Your sister, Melissa, couldn’t wait to be a bride. Even at twelve years old, she had a scrapbook with an ornate, sparkly title page, My Wedding, and she filled it with pages torn from magazines: gowns and veils, flowers, old churches with tall ceilings, elaborate centerpieces and cakes.

It’s not that you mocked her for wanting it, dreaming of it; you just had no interest. Your mind was on other things: getting good grades, getting into your schools of choice, keeping up with your brothers (surpassing them when you could – which was often), becoming a doctor, and making your father proud.

It seems odd, now, that it is you who is the bride, while Melissa will not have that chance. As you pack up the things you’re taking to your mother’s for the ceremony, you decide, at the last minute, to include a bracelet that Melissa gave to you years ago. It’s cheaply made and doesn’t go with your dress, but you want a piece of her with you this day.

The drive to your mother’s goes quickly, with you and Mulder laughing about ridiculous baby names for much of the drive.

“Flukeman,” he suggests, and you think you’ll wet your pants from laughing so hard.

“I like Madeline, for a girl,” you tell him once you’ve caught your breath. “It means high tower.”

Mulder thinks about that and nods his head. “If we have a boy,” he says, “and we want a family name, it will have to be – “

“William!” you both say at once, and chuckle.

“Right, Scully?” Mulder is pleased that you get it. “Almost every dude on both sides is William. I don’t feel like we would have any other choice.”

“We wouldn’t shorten it to Bill, though, or Billy,” you say with certainty.

“God, no, not Bill,” Mulder pleads as if pained, but his eyes are full of mirth.

____________________________________________

Your dress is a simple, cream-colored shift dress with cap sleeves and a belt of silk around the middle, which you put on in the quiet of the guest room upstairs. People are arriving downstairs, few as they are; you can hear the exclamations as they arrive, the congratulations; you can hear Mulder saying “Thank you” a lot. Thank you for coming, thank you for being here, thank you for bringing all this great food. He must be dressed already. Your mother appears from the next room with a bouquet she has made from her own garden: a bright summer blend with sprigs of baby’s breath and some greenery. It’s perfect. She’s close to tears and so full of nervous energy that it threatens to knot your own stomach; she continuously fusses over you; fixes your hair repeatedly, putting a little bunch of baby’s breath on one side; and keeps offering you jewelry to wear. You don’t want jewelry. You just want Mulder.

Mulder didn’t think you should be walked down the aisle as if being presented to him as property, and you had agreed. Once your mom has gone downstairs he comes to get you in the guest bedroom, so you can walk together; he taps at the door, and waits.

“Come in,” you call out, and he does.

There’s a moment, for most brides and their grooms, when time stands still, and this is yours. He stands in the doorway in his best suit and looks at you with so much love and awe in his face that you have to take a deep, shuddering breath to keep from sobbing.

“Damn these pregnancy hormones,” you chide yourself, but he comes forward, taking your hands in his.

“You look so beautiful,” he says earnestly, and something about his expression reminds you of your first case together, standing in a forest, having almost caught a glimpse of an unknown world. Only the paranormal once thrilled him this way; now it is you, and the life growing inside of you. And all of a sudden you get it: this is really just about you and him. All of the planning, and the venue, and the guests – and whether or not you vomit when you’re up there, which is a distinct possibility – means nothing in the grand scheme of things. This day is about you and Mulder: your love for each other, the life you are building together, the commitment you are making. You’ve already made the commitment to him in your heart and mind – you did that long before you’d like to admit it – and this day is just about making it official. This realization, as well as Mulder’s hand in yours, settles your stomach and brings your focus back to right here, right now.

The music has started downstairs and your brother Bill is yelling at people to take their seats. The guest list is really just Bill and his wife and son, Charlie and his long-time girlfriend with her two teenage daughters, the Gunmen, and Skinner. It’s a motley crew, but they’re your people. You wish Mulder’s mother and sister could have been here. You lit a candle for them at church yesterday. You play with Melissa’s bracelet on your wrist, tell her silently that you love her.

“Ready?” Mulder asks, holding out his elbow for you.

The garden looks lovely, with the lilac tree in full bloom and the rose bushes on each fence bursting with red flowers. Your mother has rented white garden chairs that are in three small, perfect rows, and a chuppah with white drapery around it waits at the end of the stone path, and everyone you really care about, including the memory of those you have lost, are all in the same place at the same time. As you walk with Mulder, hand in hand, you manage to share brief, shy smiles with the group. The sun is shining, and in the distance a bird sings loudly. It might be the prettiest day you’ve ever experienced.

Father McCue introduces everyone, and then waits for you and Mulder to exchange your vows. Mulder had announced a month ago that he was writing his own, and then you felt that you should too, and now you feel embarrassed about sharing something so personal in front of everyone. Mulder senses your apprehension; he squeezes your hand for the hundredth time today.

“It’s just you and me, Scully,” he whispers, and winks at you. And so you begin.

“Mulder, I have struggled with what to say to you today. A few words couldn’t possible express my feelings for you, what you mean to me. I love you so very, very much, and when I look back at the journey we have shared, I can’t believe we have come to this place. Mulder – “

Nervousness sweeps over you again, and you center yourself in his gaze.

“You are my best friend, my soulmate, and my partner in life. I am… I feel so thankful to be by your side, together facing all things that come our way. Your passion – and compassion – your integrity, your strength, and your unwavering desire to seek and find the deep truths of the universe have enriched my life and changed me for the better. I commit myself to you, to walk by your side, to strive to be a help and not a hindrance to you, to share all of my joys and my struggles with you, and to be a constant ally and a safe place for you. With me you can find your family.”

Done, you breathe deeply.

Mulder is clearly feeling emotional, pressing his lips together, shifting side to side on his feet. His thumbs make circles across the tops of your hands. The group is silent, but for a couple of the women – and Frohike – sniffling softly while all of you wait for Mulder to speak.

“Scully… Dana… I remember like it was yesterday the first time we met. I knew almost immediately that you were the smartest person I had ever known, that was clear, but what I learned, over time, was that you’re also the most caring, the most empathetic, and the kindest person I’ve ever known too. You are honest, disciplined, feisty – “ (this brings a little chuckle from your brothers), “and you fight with ferocity for the people and the causes you care about. I’ve never known anyone like you, Scully, and I am amazed…” he pauses, clearing his throat, his eyes becoming damp. “I’m amazed, every day, that you have been with me on this journey, and are choosing to continue this journey with me no matter what comes our way. And when we have this baby–“

There’s an audible gasp from the small crowd; the baby hadn’t been announced yet.

“I’m sorry,” Mulder says quickly, and you see his panic face.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, and turn his hands over in yours, rubbing his fingers. Your mother starts to cry in earnest, dabbing at her face with a handkerchief, and you give her an understanding smile across the garden.

Mulder exhales. “I can’t wait to see you as a mother, and to experience a whole new kind of journey – as a family – with you. I once said that you are my constant, and my touchstone. Scully, you are all of that, and more. I promise today to be that for you, too, for the rest of my life.”

You are nodding, biting your lip, letting the tears slide down your cheeks. If ever there was a time to openly cry, you suppose this is it.

Father McCue guides you in exchanging the rings – a simple gold band for Mulder, something more delicate for you, handed down from one generation to the next in Mulder’s family.

“Dana, Fox,” Father McCue says in his clear, loud voice, “I would like to read to you from The Song of Solomon, Chapter Two. The Good Word says:

My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come… The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away… My beloved is mine, and I am his.

Now, the two of you are no longer just your own, but you belong to each other. And it is my pleasure,” he said, his sparkling eyes sweeping the crowd, “for the first time ever, to present to you this lovely couple as man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Mulder’s kiss is like a gentle rain shower that washes away all of the nerves of the day. You lean into it, wrapping your arms around his back while he holds you close, touching the base of your neck tenderly.

“Will you make me that sandwich now?” he whispers against your cheek as you break the kiss, and you laugh, shaking your head.

The party is relaxed, the food is good, and everyone enjoys the champagne and wine (except you, who is sharing the punch bowl with the children). Your mom flits around the house and yard, making sure everyone is happy and eating; your young nephew has a basket of flower petals he randomly grabs fistfuls of and tosses at you; Bill shakes Mulder’s hand with less of a grimace than he’s had before – “It’s progress,” you remind Mulder, who shrugs – and Tara squeals over the pregnancy and wants to help you decorate the nursery. The Gunmen have brought their own food because you never know, and Skinner dances with Maggie until she blushes, pats his arm awkwardly and disappears to the kitchen. The music plays into the night; the wine keeps pouring.

After the sun sets, Mulder takes you by the hand, saying “Come away with me, my fair one,” into your ear, creating goosebumps across your body. He walks you to the edge of the yard, away from the crowd, holds you in his arms, and promises you the world while you watch the stars come out.


End file.
